We put the old brown cow to sleep
Whacked her on the head
Then went to a picture show
And left her in the shed
The movie was a comedy
But I didn't laugh
So we bought a butcher knife
And a toy giraffe
He said that he loved me and
He told me that he cared
He said that he loved the way
I walked and I was weird
Now he hovers over me
And motions in the air
He's pointing at the oven
And I'm getting really scared
Text:
When you've had as many lovers as I have, a certain
blurring becomes inevitable. This one merges into that,
a she becomes a he, and the he blends into the blobby
mass of everybody. But some do stand out ...eventually
becoming the white thumb in the black palm ...the
albino in the beam of a flashlight. Marie was like that
...I guess it was her innocence that set her apart. I
...I don't normally hold innocence in such high esteem
...everyone has it and everyone loses it ...and
sometimes it's my job to hasten that loss.
As one might expect, coming to grips with the real ME
...as opposed to the dream ME, is an inevitable step in
most of my "encounters." There's always a slight period
of disillusionment, but they eventually get over it
...or not ...whatever ...but Marie ...we were standing
in the kitchen and ...it was almost like she melted
...one moment she was staring at me with a look of
confusion and in an instant she was lying at my feet on
the floor ...as you can imagine, the drama thing really
doesn't work on me, but this was different ...I stood
there looking at her, until ...hesitantly reaching out,
I watched her eyes as they followed the length of my
arm and moved over towards towards the stove ...she had
the oddest expression ...and then, staring at the oven
door, she began to talk ...about the cow ...the old
brown cow and the day the cow died ...and then she
began to blubber like a baby ...like that goddam cow
was her pet bunny and f*cking Charles Manson had just
bit its head off ...it really freaked me out ...I think
about her all the time.